Theories of Relativity
by TaliesinTaleweaver
Summary: Set in a slightly altered movie universe in which The Last Stand never happened, a young mutant named Laura thinks it's just business as usual when she begins attending Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, but then she meets a man whom she thought had walked out of her life for good. Meanwhile, Logan finds a link to a past he thought was gone forever.


1

Someone up a tree wanted to be left alone.

All schools have their own traditions, their own unwritten laws that students must obey if they wish to survive until graduation. At Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, most of them were straightforward and rather obvious. No practical jokes could be played on Professor Xavier or Mr. Logan. Nobody was actually expected to finish all the 'required' reading for English classes. Someone up a tree wanted to be left alone. Particularly if they were twenty or thirty feet up a tree whose lowest branches for ten feet off the ground. Violating such rules meant fights and arguments that were all your fault anyway.

Therefore, when Jubilee stood beneath the giant oak in which Marie was perched and shouted for her to come down, Marie was understandably irked. Jubilee tended to annoy Marie at the best of times, with her constant babbling and love of fashion and roller skates.

"Don't you have something else to do?" Marie shouted back down, not budging. She had failed an English lit test, lost her physics homework, bungled a history report and therefore the universe must hate her today.

"Mr. Summers said that, like, you have to come down," Jubilee answered. She folded her arms across her chest and popped her bubble gum loudly.

"Fine then." Marie still didn't move. "After you leave."

Jubilee stayed rooted where she was. "No, I want to see this."

Marie wasn't flying in front of Jubilee. Or anybody for that matter. She wasn't very good at it and looked like a penguin trying to take to the skies. She sighed and scrambled to the lowest branches, then jumped off, landing on bent knees. Jubilee rolled her eyes and pointed toward the school building as if Marie didn't know where it was.

Scott was in the War Room, it happened, along with his new wife Jean, Professor Xavier, Ororo, and Logan. Marie stopped at the door and raised her eyebrows. This was. . .unusual. Scott nodded for her to come in.

"Have I done something wrong?" Marie asked uncertainly as she stepped inside.

"No," Scott said. "Well, probably yes, but nothing I care about. This is business."

"But I'm not an X-Man." She had been for a short time, then Professor Xavier had vetoed it, saying she hadn't had enough field experience. How on earth was she supposed to get enough field experience if she was never allowed in the field?

"I'm aware of that," Professor Xavier said. "But, surprisingly, it isn't that sort of business. I've discovered a mutant, a girl, whom we wish to approach about attending the school. However, we think she would be more comfortable if-"

"Charlie wants you to go with the One-Eye to ask the kid if she wants to attend Mutant High," Logan interrupted. The professor glared at him.

Marie grinned. "Really? I'd love to."

"Then get ready," Scott said. "I'll be in the garage in five."

Marie nodded and flew from the room. Five steps into the hall she did a u-turn, stuck her head back in to say thanks and dashed out again.

Once on the road, Marie asked, "So where is she?"

They were in Scott's Mazda RX-8, the same car Logan had used as an escape vehicle last year to get Marie, Bobby, and John out when Colonel Stryker had attacked the school. Despite the fact that it had been a life-and-death situation, Scott had later yelled at Logan for ten full minutes because the paint had been scratched. Scott and his cars, it was unbelievable.

When Scott answered her question, she had to pull her thoughts back to the present.

"Here in Westchester, about forty minutes from Salem Center."

"So we've got a bit of a drive."

"Yes."

"What's her name?"

"Laura Logan. And before you ask, she's fourteen and I don't know what her power is."

"Hmm. I wasn't going to ask the first one, but thanks anyway."

A rare smile crossed Scott's face, but he didn't say anything.

"You're an a good mood," Marie commented.

"Unlike you."

"Hey, that's not fair. Have you ever failed an important test?"

"Yes."

"And had someone grab your paper with a big fat 'F' and wave it around the room, then gotten so angry you levitated three feet in the air and smacked your head on a desk when you hit the ground?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Didn't think so either." Marie folded her arms almost smugly and leaned back "Hopefully they'll all have forgotten it by the time I get back."

Scott gave her a dry look. "That lot? Ororo and Jean still laugh about the time when I was fifteen and asked if I could have ruby quartz contacts because the visor was so clunky."

Marie laughed. "Contacts? How was _that_ supposed to work?"

"I'm still trying to figure it out."

"You're in a really good mood. What happened?"

"Why did something have to happen? I'm not allowed to just be happy?"

"Nope, you definitely have to have a reason."

Scott smiled to himself, but didn't answer.

Half-an-hour later they pulled in front the girl's house. An apartment building, actually. It was well-kept, considering the area, which wasn't very good. Laura lived on the third floor. When Scott rang the bell, an Asian woman opened the door. She looked to be in her early, maybe mid-, twenties, with short hair framing her face. She wore a blue business suit. "Yes?"

Scott instantly launched into his professional spiel. "Hello, are you Amiko Kobayashi? I'm Scott Summers and this is Marie D'Ancanto, representatives of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. We have an appointment to speak to Amiko and Laura about our academic program?"

Recognition flashed across the woman's face. "Oh, yes. I'm Amiko, please come in." She stepped aside to let them in.

The interior of the apartment was much the same as the outside: clean and tidy, but cramped. A dark green couch, two upholstered chairs, a tiny side table, and a thirty-inch television were squeezed into a living room smaller than Marie's bedroom back home in Mississippi. A doorway off the side led into the kitchen, where a pot of something was on the stove.

"Please have a seat," Amiko said. "I'll got get Laura."

Just then, a Caucasian teenager appeared in the hall. She had dark hair that fell down to the middle of her back with no particular rhyme or reason and vivid green eyes that peered uncertainly at the visitors. She wore worn, but not ripped, jeans and fitted black shirt. She was holding a copy of Dracula, the real one, not a rip-off. Marie knew it was the real one because she had been forced to read that same edition in school last year.

"Laura," Amiko said, "these are the people from that private school."

The girl, Laura, nodded and plopped onto the couch. "'Kay."

"Hello, Laura," Scott said. "I'm Scott. How are you?"

"I'm perfectly adequate, thank you," Laura answered with a straight face. Then she giggled.

Marie raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"'Pride and Prejudice'," Laura offered, as if that explained anything. She frowned at Marie's blank expression. "There's this—this character who, um—oh never mind. So what about your um. . .?"

Scott handed her a brochure. "It's a boarding school, only about half-an-hour away so you could visit your—" he paused, glancing at Amiko.

"Sister," Amiko said, before Scott could decide what he wanted to say.

"Sister. Thank you. Anyway, we have an enriching curriculum with plenty of electives and special courses. The grounds are extensive and the school borders natural forest. It has a full gym, basketball court, baseball diamond, volleyball court. It's a relatively small school, so each students gets plenty of individualized attention." He paused for questions.

"Are you a teacher there?" Amiko asked.

"Yes, I am," Scott said. "I teach science, math, and an elective course in mechanics."

"What about you?" Amiko asked, nodding at Marie.

"I'm a student," Marie answered. "The teachers thought it would be helpful if Laura could talk to somebody who actually goes the school, so she know what it's _really_ like."

"So, Laura, talk to Marie," Amiko prompted.

Laura thought for a moment. Marie could almost physically feel the girl wanting to go back to her book. "Um, is it fun?"

"Sure. I mean, lessons are like anywhere, but it's so cool living in a mansion, and you're right down the hall from your friends. It sounds stupid, but it's really like it's all one family."

"Honestly, it couldn't be worse then West High, so I guess I'm willing to give it a go. 'Miko?"

"I just want Laura to get a good education and be happy." Amiko shrugged. "But there's one thing that might be a problem." She glanced at Laura as if to get permission. Laura shrugged.

"Well, say hypothetically that Laura's a mutant. How would your school treat her?"

"Oh yes," Scott said. "One last point: every kid at the school is a mutant. I think she'd fit in just fine, hypothetically."

Laura grinned.

"It's a school for mutants?" Amiko asked, eyes wide.

"That's right."

Laura shrugged. "I'm in, I guess."

Laura moved in the next weekend. Marie had ended up as her roommate. She wasn't sure how that had happened, but she didn't mind too much. She had known that having her own room could only last so long.

She was in her room catching up on English literature homework when Laura arrived.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Come on in," Marie said.

Laura pushed the door open with her foot. She was loaded down with two duffel bags and Amiko was standing behind her with a large rolling suitcase. Standing behind them was Ororo, who had apparently led them up. "I'll leave you to get settled. If you have any questions, I'm sure Marie would be glad to help you."

"Hi," Marie said, glad for an excuse to close Hamlet before her brain exploded. Why didn't somebody translate Shakespeare into English, the way they translated Tolstoy or Homer?

"Um, hi," Laura said. She turned to Amiko. "It's okay, you can leave the stuff here, I'll put it away. Eventually."

Amiko nodded. "Bye, sweetie." They hugged tightly, Laura nestled her face on Amiko's shoulder. Marie felt a bit embarrassed, watching them.

"You'll come get me Saturday, right?" Laura asked.

"Of course. I'll be here bright and early."

After Amiko left, Laura dropped onto her bed, the one Marie wasn't sitting on, and sighed, seeming to droop visibly.

Marie eyed her. "You okay?"

Laura shrugged. "How did you feel when you left your family?"

"I don't have any. After I found out I was a mutant, I ran away from my foster parents." Marie shrugged. "But they didn't like me very much anyway. You're lucky to have a sister that cares about you."

"At least _someone_ does." Laura shook her head. "Anyway, where do I put my stuff?"

Marie pointed to a bureau near Laura's bed. "I cleared half the closet too and if you have a lot of books Mr. Summers will mount a shelf over your bed if you want."

"Thanks."

Laura hefted her suitcase onto her bed and unzipped it. The clothes inside were neatly folded. Every seam was lined up, everything was perfectly smooth. Laura took out a stack of pants and placed in them a drawer. "So what do you do around here on weekends?"

Something crashed downstairs. Someone yelled and something heavy fell down.

"Stuff like that," Marie said, getting up. "Want to go see who knocked themselves out?"

Laura looked concerned. "D'you think someone got hurt?"

"No."

At the foot of the stairs Julian and Jubilee were glaring at each other so fiercely Marie could almost see steam rising from their ears. Scott was standing next to them, arms folded and a cross expression on his face. Shattered around them were pieces of an ornate vase, some of which were still smoking.

"What. Happened?" Scott said slowly.

Jubilee shrugged. "Julian threw me into the wall so I, like, paffed him and he fell into the vase because he, like, has no sense of balance and he threw some pieces of it at me so I paffed them, so it's all his fault because he, like, attacked me and I didn't even do anything."

"That's not true!" Julian yelled. "She short sheeted my bed yesterday, put Super Glue in my shampoo, which thankfully I didn't use but Angelo did. Then she snitched two of my CD's and she somehow filled my pockets with pink glitter! Ahhhh!"

"I did _not,_ like, take your nasty CD's, they're still in your room," Jubilee protested.

"Both of you, be quiet," Scott ordered. Both fell silent immediately. "Both of you are grounded for one week, no television, video games, or trips to the mall. Jubilee, you also have two hours of detention a day for a week. Now both of you clean this mess up and then I don't want to see or hear either one of you for the rest of day." Scott turned and stalked off.

Laura looked at Marie. "Is it always like this?"

Marie grinned.

Over the next few weeks Laura settled into life into a routine. She was quiet in class, but always knew the answer if she were called upon. She mostly kept to herself, preferring to curl up with a book or take a solitary walk rather than interact with the other students. She liked Jean and Ororo, but Professor Xavier intimidated her. Scott was okay, but he was standoffish. Logan was downright frightening. He taught P.E., which was more like 'fighting and martial arts skills' than playing volleyball and running laps. The other kids said that it hadn't always been like that, but last year the school had been attacked by a psycho with soldiers, and the Powers that Be had decided that the entire student body needed to be able to defend themselves in case something like that ever happened again.

She spent a lot of time with Marie. She found it fascinating that Marie could fly. Her own powers, except for exceptionally sharp senses, were gross and, to be honest, kind of morbid. She only told them about the senses thing, and she felt guilty about not telling them the rest, but it creeped her out. Maybe when she came to terms with she'd tell other people.

She was now in the rec room, only half watching the black-and-white comedy Marie was watching. In a of couple hours Amiko would come and take her home for the weekend. She was enjoying the school more than she thought she would, but she was glad to be going home. She was fiddling with an old lock someone had found in the attic. Somehow, word had gotten around the school that the new girl picked locks for a hobby, and students were continually giving her the strangest locks to see if they could stump her. So far, no one had.

"You know, you don't look like Amiko," Marie remarked as the television went to a commercial.

Laura laughed. "Understatement much? Our dad adopted Amiko before he married my mom." She rolled her eyes. "Then he up and left before I was even born. My mom died when I was eleven and Amiko's raised me since. Then again, she pretty much raised me before then, too."

Marie looked down. "I'm sorry."

The lock clicked open and Laura set it down. "Thanks. But it's okay."

Her cell chirped and she flipped it open, quickly scanning the caller ID. "Hey, 'Miko."

"Hi, Laura." Amiko sounded a bit upset. "Look, my car didn't start this morning, so—"

"You're not coming?!" Laura gasped.

"No, no, no," Amiko said quickly. "I'll take a bus. I just wanted to tell you that I'll be late because of the bus route."

Marie, who had evidently heard the conversation, shook her head. _I'll give you a ride,_ she mouthed. _She doesn't have to bother._

"Really?" Laura asked.

"Sure," Marie said.

"Wow, thanks. Hey, 'Miko, my friend said she'll give me a ride."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"Yeah, I'll see you soon. Bye."

Laura shoved her phone into her pocket. "Thanks, Marie."

"It's no problem. Logan and I were heading out that way anyway."

Ten minutes later they were in the garage. Logan gave Laura a long look, then glanced at Marie and raised an eyebrow.

"She needs a ride home. So I volunteered you." Marie smiled sweetly. Logan made a sound somewhere between a growl and a grunt, but said nothing except, "Get in the car then."

Laura spent most of the trip staring out the window, watching the scenery flash by. Marie tried to engage her in conversation a few times, but Laura felt too intimidated by Logan to speak more than a few words.

When they pulled up in front of Laura's apartment, Amiko was out front hosing down the driveway. When she saw the car pull up she ran down to greet Laura.

Laura jumped out of the car. "Hi!" She hugged her sister tightly. Amiko leaned down to the window. "Thank you, Marie and—" she looked over at Logan and froze.

Laura looked back and forth between them. Amiko looked stunned, Logan looked only quizzical.

"What?" Laura asked.

Logan frowned. "Do I know you?"

Amiko walked to the other side of the car slowly. Laura tagged along behind her, waiting for Amiko to explain what was going on. She looked at Marie. Marie shrugged, clearly not understanding either. Then again, Logan didn't seem to know what was happening, either.

"James Logan?" Amiko asked carefully.

Logan shrugged. "Dunno. Why?"

Amiko's eyes were wide, pleading. "It's me, Amiko. Don't you know me?"

"Who are you?"

The color drained from Amiko's face. "I'm your daughter."

Laura was stunned. She was stunned, understatement of the year. It was like she was walking up her stairs in the dark and she thought there was one more step than there actually was, but instead of a short jolt she was still falling, because the stairs didn't lead to her apartment, they led to insanity and impossibilities.

"What!" she almost yelled. Amiko put her arm around her, but still stared at Logan. "How can you not remember me?"

"He doesn't remember anything from more than fifteen years ago," Marie interjected.

"You know who I am?" Logan asked.

"Of course I know who you are," Amiko said, voice trembling. "You're James Logan. You're my dad, and Laura's dad, but you never met her. When I was little, you'd tell me stories about the mansion you grew up in Northern Alberta. What happened to you? Why didn't you come back?"

In short, clipped sentences Logan told her about the Weapon X Project. As he spoke, Amiko's eyes widened and she put her hand over her mouth. When he finished she pulled herself together and nodded firmly. "You're both coming inside and we're going to have a long talk, bub."

Events and histories were hashed and rehashed, everything discussed in painstaking details. Amiko wanted to know everything that had happened to Logan since the day when she was twelve and he had vanished, and Logan was desperate to know everything about his life before Weapon X.

Amiko wasn't sure of everything, but she said he had been born in Canada to wealthy parents. Something had happened there, something that had bothered him so much he had never talked about it. He seemed to have done everything, because he later told Amiko the wildest stories about things that had happened to him, from living with Blackfoot Indians to fighting in Vietnam. He lived for several years in Japan, which was where he had found Amiko. Amiko's mother had been a good friend of Logan's and when she had died, she had asked him to take care of her daughter, who was five at the time. Logan and Amiko had moved around a lot, from city to city and country to country as Logan found odd jobs. Amiko said he was rover by nature and probably would have shriveled up if he had been forced to stay in one place to long.

"But I loved it," she said. "It was exciting and fun, I mean, how many kids get to live London, Cairo, Bangkok, and Moscow by the time they're nine?"

Then Logan had married Sarah Kinney, an independent medical researcher, and settled down a bit.

"'A bit' being the keyword. You still up and left every chance you got. You'd walk into the living room and out of the blue announce that we were spending a week in Madrid and our plane was leaving in two hours so start packing. But Mom and I both loved it."

Then he'd vanished eight months before Laura was born, two days after his and Sarah's third anniversary.

"Mom kind of lost it for awhile after you left. I guess they'd call it depression, but all I remember is that she was often either too buried in work to have time for Laura and me, or she was on such an emotional roller-coaster she couldn't handle us. I mean, she was a great mom when she was mothering at all, but I never knew when that would be. So I grew up pretty quick."

Sarah had died four years ago and Amiko legally took custody of Laura, but she had been caring for her sister and running the household for years anyway.

Amiko shrugged. "So that's pretty much it."

Logan was silent for a long time, staring at the carpet between his shoes. Amiko got up and walked over to him. "Um, Dad? I'm very sorry about-you know, what happened. It's great seeing you again, knowing that you're not dead." Amiko smiled faintly. "I love you a lot." She bent down and kissed his forehead, then went into the kitchen. "I'm making dinner," she said to no one in particular, "I'm making onigiri because I used to make it with Dad when I was little. He would boil rice and help me press it into shape."

Laura was curled up in the corner of the couch, taking everything in with wide eyes. She had said nothing since the shocked exclamation in the drive-way. Amiko set a pot of hot rice and a bowl of onigiri filling on the table. Laura guessed the rice had been on the stove when they had driven up and fillings were always in the refrigerator because onigiri didn't take long to make and Amiko never had much time to spend in the kitchen. Nobody was even remotely thinking about food, but Laura knew that Amiko handled stress best when her hands were busy. Laura wished she could handle stress at all. She was going to have a nervous breakdown in about another three minutes and then Amiko would have even more to worry about.

Laura glanced over at Marie, sitting next to her on the couch. Marie smiled tightly and took Laura's hand in her gloved one.

Finally Logan spoke. His words came out slowly, as if he were formulating them as he spoke. "Amiko, Laura, I'm sorry about not being there for you."

"It's not your fault," Amiko said, too quickly. "Right, Laura?"

Laura scowled. "I'm going to my room and I'm perfectly all right so don't come around following me, okay?" She jumped up and ran to her room. She slammed the door and twisted the lock fiercely, then she crumpled against the door and sobbed. She didn't know why she was crying, and she had an awful feeling that she ought to be overjoyed that her dad had turned up again, but she wasn't. She and Amiko had been doing perfectly fine for four years, thank you very much. And besides, she didn't even _like_ Logan. He freaked her out. She spotted an old stuffed bear on the floor that she had left behind when she went away to school because she was afraid it would be considered too babyish. She clutched it close to her chest and buried her face in its tan fur. Then she remembered that it had been Amiko's, one of the toys their dad- _Logan-_had given her when she was little. Laura was tempted to throw it across the room, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Why couldn't this kind of stuff only happen in books, safely removed from reality?

Laura opened her eyes and blinked. Afternoon light filtered through the blinds and her neck had a crick in it. She had cried herself to sleep, slumped against the door. She groaned and stood up. _Please have been a dream, please have been a dream,_ she thought silently. Yeah right, only if her morbid powers were also a dream. Laura clenched her fingers into a fist and popped the claws on her left hand. There were two of them, gleaming bone that stretched exactly eight and a half inches from her knuckles; she'd measured them once. Sharp as knives, cruel as winter, and what was worse, she knew instinctively how to use them. She almost wanted to use them–it was like having functioning legs but never walking—yet at the same time was revolted by them down to the core of her being. Claws were for killing and she wasn't a killer. _At least I came by them honestly_, she thought bitterly. How could someone come by a physical trait, dishonestly, anyway? The phrase had always driven her crazy and it was a bad sign if she was using it herself, even if only in her thoughts.

She let the claws slip back into her forearm. She could feel them slicing through her flesh and muscle as they retracted, feel the fire of the cut nerves and screaming tendons. Just as she could feel her body knitting itself back together, repairing the injuries and dulling the pain, killing any infections before they had a chance to set in. Laura had never gotten sick in her life, hadn't gotten chicken pox when her whole class got them, never had the flu, never even had a sniffle. Once, everyone in her lunch shift at school had gotten food poisoning from a bad batch of meat loaf (was there ever a _good_ batch of meat loaf?), except her.

She had also known there was something wrong with the meatloaf, but nobody had listened to her, just another attention-seeking kid with a deadbeat dad. Like half West High. She hadn't been seeking attention, of course. She hated attention, much preferrimg to blend into the background, be a part of a room or hall rather than in a room or hall. From that vantage point she could know everything that went on. She knew who was dating which jock and who had dumped whom and who the hottest singer of the month was and that Brian had asked Cindy to the school dance rather than Rebecca. She heard conversations from other rooms and had smelt Rebecca's rejection and anger when the cheerleader had walked past. Since she was eight she had been an outcast, the freaky girl. Even when people didn't know she was a mutant, they seemed to sense something. . .off about her and steered clear of her.

She wondered what Logan would be like as a father. Amiko had always gushed about him, but that was then, and with a daughter he had known almost since birth and had watched grow up. Compare that to a teenager he'd never met until last week, and even then had mostly avoided, though Laura was charitable to put that last point down to the fact that he mostly avoided everyone and not because he hated her personally. Yeah, her dad just hated the world generally. That was a lot better. Marie seemed to like him. Everything was Logan this and Logan that and 'how about I ask what Logan thinks', but Logan wasn't actually her dad, even if he sometimes acted like one. For a fleeting moment Laura wondered if he'd replaced her with Marie, but firmly squashed the notion. Marie was too good a friend to have a thought like that between them; she was the best friend Laura had ever had. And to fair Logan hadn't known she existed until today. But what kind of brainwashing, memory-wiping _whatever_ could make a guy forget that he had a wife, had kids. For a moment she felt sorry for him, but only for a moment.

It occurred to her that come Monday she would have to see him again and wondered how he would react. Would be standoffish, unsure of what to do with her, or would be eager to make up to her the fifteen years he'd been gone and stifle her with attention? Somehow, Laura doubted that Logan was genetically able to do the latter. The time-space continuum would probably warp or something. She hoped Marie wouldn't blab the news all over the school, but that didn't seem likely. Marie kept to herself almost as much as Laura did, and respected others' privacy.

But for now, Laura decided that she would try to forget it all. Monday would come, inexorable as always, tromping all over Sunday's heels in its attempt to rush into the worst day of the week. But until then there was rest of today, then Saturday and yes, even Sunday, as truncated as that day always seemed. If she could only convince Amiko that she, under no circumstances, wanted to discuss the day's events, she might able survive the weekend. And who knows? Maybe by Monday, she would be able to handle it like an adult instead of, embarrassingly, like a sniveling child.

Marie was about to go to the cafeteria for breakfast when Laura arrived Monday morning. The younger girl flung her small duffel bag on the bed and sat on the floor, resting her head on her hand.

"So— " Marie started to say.

"Like you'd think I'd be," Laura answered the unfinished question. "I really need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"

Marie didn't actually _need_ breakfast. "Sure."

"Okay, I have about a million questions for you, beginning with 'How on earth could this happen?'"

Marie was quiet for a second, thinking fast. "You know when you first got your powers and it was like the sky had fallen? Personally, I think suddenly finding a long-lost dad is less strange than either of our powers."

"Yeah, but statistically, if one crazy thing happens to you it's less likely for anything else to. So that fact that I'm a mutant should take care of me for life, freak incident-wise."

"Unless it's the other way around and if one crazy thing happens it's even more likely for other stuff to happen."

Laura digested that for a minute, then shook her head. "Doesn't help. He scares me. And why do you get along with him so well?"

"It's sort of a long story. I was hitchhiking with him, after I ran away—"

"You were _hitchhiking_ with him?!" Laura gasped. "Are you insane?"

"Yeah, well, I had just found out how they felt about mutants, and they carried rifles around. I went with him because I knew he was a mutant. I guess, I don't know, I thought he wouldn't hurt me because I was like him. And I wasn't exactly hitchhiking. Technically, I was stowed away in the back of his trailer and he offered me a ride when he found me back there."

"Then there was something about the Statue of Liberty and something or other and Logan was almost killed, yeah, I know," Laura said, evidence that the school grape vine was in perfect working order. "But _why_? He doesn't seem to get along with anyone but you."

Marie shrugged. "I don't know. He's always looked out for me, since we met."

"So what's he going to do about me? "

"What do you want him to do?"

Laura frowned, absently nibbling at a strand of hair. "I dunno. Did you tell anyone about the whole thing?"

"Of course not. I won't unless you say it's all right."

Laura looked relieved. "Good. I don't want the whole school knowing the intimate details of my life. So what should I do?"

"Here's my advice: just act normal, don't try to avoid Logan, but give him some time because he's going through the same thing you are."

Laura looked dubious. "Act normal. I'll try."

Okay, so acting normal was out. Laura couldn't concentrate on anything, and botched everything she put her hand to. By lunch she was worn out and on edge. She got a tray and sat down with her usual group: Marie, Bobby, Kitty, Illyana, and Julian.

"You look bushed," Kitty noted.

"Yeah, I kinda feel bushed too," Laura said. "Tough morning."

Kitty, who had had a history class with Laura that morning, grinned mischievously. "I could tell. Even Yana knows that guillotines are associated with the French Revolution, not World War I."

Laura blushed. "I wasn't paying attention."

Illyana, who at eight was the youngest student at Xavier's, frowned innocently. "What's a guillotine?"

Julian laughed. "It's a machine where they put your head on a table-thing and a great axe comes down and WHACK!" He brought his hand smashing down on the table for emphasis. "And sometimes it had a basket to catch your head so it didn't roll all over the place, squirting blood all over everybody watching like a gory water gun. And sometimes you didn't die instantly and the heads would glare at people and even talk while they're spewing blood like a fire hydrant."

Illyana shuddered. "That's gross."

Kitty scowled at Julian. "There's no reason to be so lurid around Yana, Julian. And besides, we're eating."

Marie looked down mournfully at the pile of ketchup in which she had drenched her overcooked fries, in an attempt to make them palatable. "Yeah, Julian, now I really feel like eating this."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Julian said, shoveling a load of chili-cheese fries into his mouth. "Just remember that there's nothing to worry about because they didn't have AIDS back then. So all that guillotine blood spurting all over you wouldn't hurt you."

"It's still gross," Kitty insisted. "Right, Bobby?"

Bobby was practically inhaling a bowl of chili. "Naw. We boys have stomachs of steel. Nothing can make food have trouble getting to or staying in our stomachs."

Julian telekinetically whacked Bobby's back so hard that he coughed his mouthful of chili back into his bowl.

"Suuure, Bobby," Julian said, grinning. Marie and Kitty glared at him. "What?" He protesed. "It was funny."

"No, it wasn't," Marie and Laura said in unison, identical glares on their faces.

Julian shrugged philosophically. "Girls are too sensitive."

"Boys are too crude," Illyana mimicked in a spot-on imitation of Julian's tone.

"All right, children," Kitty smirked, "Play nicely."

"Yes, Mom," Julian replied.

"What I want to know," Bobby said, cheerfully re-chewing his chili, "is why P.E. is scheduled immediately lunch. I personally can't think of a worse time for it."

"Who has P.E. after lunch?" Laura asked.

"You," Kitty answered promptly. "And Bobby and Julian."

"No, I don't," Laura said, growing worried.

"Schedule change," Marie explained. "You've probably heard by now that Nori accidentally destroyed part of the gym and a couple classrooms Saturday? So they moved some stuff around. You missed the announcement last night and I guess we forgot to tell you."

Kitty took a sip of her Pepsi. "On the plus side you get to skip English. I, on the other hand, have a class after dinner, which is no fun."

Laura had already shown herself to be far above average in martial arts. She had taken karate since she was six and jujitsu since she was nine, and had a natural strength and agility that allowed her to improvise whenever needed. So far, Logan had mostly ignored her in class, rarely commenting because there were so many other students who needed a lot of help. Today, she scurried into the room and melted into the ranks of other kids stretching and warming up. Logan caught her eye for a moment, then looked away quickly. For the rest of the hour he studiously avoided her, and Laura was ashamed to think that she was glad.

Marie found Logan near the lake, not far from the school grounds. On Friday, she had left him and Amiko on the pretense of grabbing a soda from the corner store soon after Laura had stormed to her room. She figured they would want some privacy. Apparently she had been right, because after getting home he had left on 'business' and only gotten back this morning. So Marie hadn't had a chance to speak to him.

Logan was standing with his back to her, silhouetted by the setting sun, a shadow amidst a breathtaking scene of orange and red.

"Hey, kid," he said, turning.

"Hi." Marie walked up to him. They stared at the water in silence for a moment. Their reflections shimmered, then broke as a duck splashed noisely into the water, intent on a last bite before retiring for the night.

Marie bent and picked up a stone, skipping it across the water. "You've been thinking pretty hard these last few days?"

"One way to put it."

"What do you think about Amiko? I like her, and I can tell she _adores_ you."

"Then I betrayed that."

"You did not. It wasn't your fault."

"Stryker said I volunteered for the program."

"Sure you did. The way Magneto 'volunteered' to betray us, or Mr. Summers 'volunteered' to fight Jean. Stryker was such a liar. He didn't care if it was the truth or a lie as long as it got him what he wanted. Don't tell me you believe a word he said."

Logan didn't say anything for a long time. The sun went down and they stood there in the darkness. Finally Logan said softly, "I remember. Not much, but bits and pieces. Sometimes when Amiko said something, it was like completing a circuit and I could have told her the end of the story before she got that far."

Marie laughed aloud. "That's awesome!"

"Sure."

"But now you don't what on earth to do with Amiko and Laura."

"I didn't say that."

Marie ignored the interjection. "I won't give you advice because we both know how well you follow _that_, refer to a certain seatbelt incident. And I did tell you that you were driving too fast also."

Marie was almost certain that if it hadn't been so dark, she would have seen a smile on his face.

"You can work it out with Amiko, I'm sure she can handle you. But with Laura, I'll have to tell you what to do because you'd never figure it out on your own. She's mad at you for abandoning her, even though you didn't. That's how she sees it because that's how she's viewed you for her whole life, and, frankly, you scare her. So make it clear that you didn't want to leave her, talk to her, take her to the movies, whatever. And stop growling for two weeks. And I said I wasn't going to give you advice, so that's not advice, it's an order."

Marie was sure that Logan smiled that time.

"Hi, kid."

Laura suddenly found the book she was reading fascinating. "Hello," she mumbled.

"Can we talk?"

Laura shrugged.

"I wish I'd been there when you were growing up."

"I'm still growing up."

"Yeah, I know."

Laura glanced down the page in her lap. _"'You are a clever man, friend John. You reason well, and your wit is bold, but you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear,—'" _

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know."

"I know what that's like."

"Marie told you to talk to me, didn't she?"

"Maybe. I didn't know what to do about. . .this whole thing."

For some inexplicable reason Laura felt like crying. She blinked, looking down, waiting until she was sure her voice would be clear and unbroken. Her eyes automatically skimmed the page in her lap _"'Why was it that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and 'Old Parr' one hundred and sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men's blood in her poor veins, could not live even one day? For, had she live one more day, we could save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and death? Do you know the altogether of comparative anatomy and can say wherefore the qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others?'" _

"I don't need a dad."

"Okay, then." Logan's voice was quiet. "I just want you to know that if you ever need me, I'm here."

Laura was lounging on her bed, attention on her Nintendo DS. It was a Saturday, so she was back at the apartment, waiting for Amiko, who had gone to pick up a pizza for dinner.

"And I win," she said, tossing the game onto the bed. It wasn't very fun anyway. Video games were definitely no equal to a solid book or a good movie. Besides, none of them were very challenging.

She was just about to give up on novel entertainment and re-read 'Oliver Twist' for the seventh time when she heard someone clomping onto the porch. It wasn't Amiko; she wasn't that heavy. Plus, there were at least three men. No, four. Yes, four, and Laura was certain they were men. What were four men doing on her porch? Whatever it was, it was with a chilling certainty that Laura knew it meant nothing good.

The smell of wood burning drifted into Laura's room. She froze. Were they burning the building down? No, not likely. The smell of gun oil pervaded the apartment. No normal human would have been able to detect its traces, but then, Laura was neither exactly normal nor exactly human.

She jumped to her feet and slammed her bedroom door shut, flipping the lock and shoving a dresser in front of it. But that only barricaded her in, and it would only be a matter of moments before the men could force the door.

Where, then?

Laura looked around desperately. There was no way to get out of the apartment through the bedroom door without being caught, and no way out of the bedroom except the door—

—And the window.

Laura ran over to it and looked down. Thirty feet to a very hard ground. Cement. There was nothing to break her fall. A thirty-foot fall could kill a person. But maybe not her. She had fallen off a second-story balcony once and been able to limp home five minutes later.

A crash. The men were inside the apartment.

There was no more time for contemplation. Laura flung the window open, hesitated a fearful moment, then threw herself through it, curling her arms over her head like you did when you were surfing and you lost your board.

Laura landed hard, though she managed to land on her feet and roll onto her shoulder. She lay there, unable to move for a moment, hoping she was alive and going to stay that way for at least another few minutes.

She had to be alive, the burning pain in both legs told her that. They had to be broken, badly, and she couldn't breathe. Her entire body throbbed. She groaned. _Please, God, don't let me die here._

She tried to suck in another lungful of air and, to her surprise, was able to manage. She gulped in more oxygen and lay panting. She could feel the pain in her legs subsiding. The bones were repairing themselves, the bruised and battered flesh renewing itself.

She tried to move her legs. Though they still hurt they obeyed her commands and she stood. She could stand. She could move.

She could run.

She took off, sprinting down the street, away from the intruders. She heard yells behind her, coming from her room. The only reassuring fact was that the intruders probably wouldn't risk leaping from a third-story window and so would have to go around and use the stairs, giving her a few precious seconds for a head start.

Something hit her hard, between the shoulder blades, knocking the breath from her body. Only when her vision began to blur and her mind go fuzzy did she realize that she'd been shot. There must have been accomplices on the street.

It was her last thought before plunging into a pool of darkness.

Laura blinked, then blinked again because the sudden hard light seared her eyes. She squinted, letting her eyes adjust, and sat up slowly. Her head felt like it was caught between a hammer and anvil and her left leg ached. Where was she?

Oh, yes. The men, the jump out the window, it was all coming back to her. Automatically, she reached up and gingerly felt her back where she had been shot. She could feel some dried blood on her shirt and the bump of the bullet inside her. It wasn't very far from the surface and the wound wasn't closed. She grit her teeth and plunged her fingernail inside into the wound, pulling out the bullet. Realizing it was a tranquilizer capsule, she made a face and dropped the bloody bit of plastic. How disgusting.

With no obstruction inhibiting it, her body was able to finish repairing itself and the wound closed. Laura knew from experience that it would take awhile, maybe a couple days, to fully heal, but it would heal well enough immediately for the injury to be shunted to the back closet of her mind, where she stored information neither interesting nor immediately pertaining to her circumstances.

Laura wiped her finger on her pant leg and took in her surroundings. She was in a small room, maybe nine by ten feet, with dry plaster walls and a cement floor. A row of florescent lights adorned the ceiling, illuminating every dingy corner of the room. Laura could just imagine rats living in the walls and she shuddered. The door was a normal interior door, but with an outside lock installed backwards, so that from Laura's side, a key would be needed open it.

If you didn't know how to pick a lock.

Laura jumped up to examine it. It was about the same as the one at the front door of the apartment, which she had picked dozens of times. She patted her pockets. Of course. The one time she actually _needed_ her lock picking set in a matter of life and death, she didn't have it. She did find a safety pin and she had three hairpins in her hair. They might work. She carefully bent them in shapes as close as she could get to her tools and set about working on the lock.

It was surprisingly easy. For some reason, she had expected gun-wielding kidnappers to have invested in locks that couldn't be opened with everyday items teenage girls routinely carried on their persons. Oh well, it takes all types.

The door opened into what appeared to be a large basement, ill-lit and with dust coating the pipes and boxes. It was empty, thankfully. On the far side of the room stairs led up to—to a way to get out. She shut the cell door and ran over to them, starting up cautiously. Belatedly, her heartbeat was beginning to quicken and she felt fear. She wanted to cower in a corner and wait for the police to come get her. Or her dad. This would be a mighty good time for him play the knight in shining armor.

She forced the emotions down. She was a perfectly capable human being with an I.Q. in the ninetieth percentile, more than enough brain cells to take care of herself.

At the top of stairs was a long hall lined with closed doors. Laura hoped the rooms that were on the other side were empty. At the end of the hall was another staircase. Laura realized she was in a partially-renovated, mostly-abandoned old apartment building

Half-way down the hall, she heard feet coming down the stairs. Desperately, she glanced back. Whomever the feet belong to would be in the hall in about two seconds; there was no time to get back to the basement before they saw her. She bit her lip and shook her hair over her face, hoping that there were jean-clad women wandering around.

Two men came into view. One of them cracked a joke about fat women and both laughed uproariously. Laura didn't think the joke was very funny, but the fact that she was escaping kidnappers may have had something to do with that.

However, both were so busy laughing that neither noticed her. They walked right by her with giving her a second glance. As soon as Laura rounded the stairs, out of sight, she almost collapsed with relief.

A sudden thought struck her. What if they were going to check on her? In a couple seconds they would discover she was gone and the alarm would be raised. Laura started running. The stairs opened onto a lounge, with couches, side-tables, and vending machines. It was empty.

Laura's eyes darted around, deciding which way to go. There were three possible directions, three halls.

A klaxon sounded, blaring over hidden loudspeakers. Laura felt like her brain had been blown out through her ears, the sound was so loud. She wasn't sure, but she would bet that her escape had just been discovered.

She didn't care which direction now, she bolted through the nearest doorway—

—Which was suddenly filled with armed men, and Laura bowled right into them. She ducked under two arms and barreled past a third before they got over their shock enough to realize that it was only one girl and that the seven of them could easily overpower her. One man tackled her to the floor and put a semi-automatic to her head.

"Don't move," he growled in her ear. Fear wormed its way down Laura's spine.

"You can't kill her, Stonerend," another man protested, "Byron would have our hides."

Stonerend smiled coldly. He moved the gun down to her leg. "There now. If you move, I won't _kill _you, but a bullet to your thigh will make you wish I had."

Another man lifted a radio. "We've got her. Secure the cell and do it properly this time."

A voice crackled over the radio waves. "How?"

"I don't care how, just do it." He jammed the radio back onto his belt.

Stonerend yanked Laura to her feet.

Laura swallowed. "What do you want with me?"

"I don't want anything with you, I just want the money."

"What money?"

Someone crashed their elbow into Laura's head so hard her eyes blurred. "Shut up."

"Easy, Thompson," Stonerend said. "Take her to her cell. I've got a little appointment with Byron.

Down in the basement, a man was drilling a short, wide tube parallel to each other on either side of the 'cell' door. A four-foot pipe was leaning against the wall, presumably to be used to bar the door.

Thompson nodded approvingly. "Good idea, Stevens."

The other man nodded. "I try."

Thompson took a pair of handcuffs from his belt and cuffed Laura's hands behind her back.

Two men were laboriously pushing a box of something into the corner of the cell. Thompson tied Laura's handcuffs to the box and scowled at her. "If you make any more trouble I will personally pull your brains out through your nose."

Laura grimaced. "Then what, embalm me and put me in a sarcophagus?"

The thug didn't seem to get it. He marched out and slammed the door. Laura heard the makeshift bar slide into place and the men left, except for one, her guard apparently.

She groaned and leaned her head against the box. She had woken up that morning expecting to hang out with Amiko, maybe see a movie, and in all other ways lounge the day away. Now, only hours later, she was imprisoned in the basement of an apartment building, kidnaped by mercenary thugs for who-knows-why.

Swell.

How something that bizarre even happen? Admittedly, 12.164 children were kidnaped by strangers everyday in America, but there are 41 million possible victims and how many people got kidnaped by squads of paid thugs, anyway?

But she would be found. Amiko must have already called the police. Then again forty-four percent of people kidnaped by strangers were either killed or never found. A reassuring thought. Laura was beginning to wish she didn't know so many statistics. Amiko always she was like Mom in that way. "Mom had to work everything out from every possible angle and know every remotely applicable fact before making a decision," Amiko would say. Then she would grin and follow it up with, "And Dad always preferred to fight somebody. He may not have always been right at the beginning of the confrontation, but he was by the end."

Laura was happy to let her mind wander to her family. Bad as it was, it took her mind away from her current situation. She remembered Mom tucking her bed when she was little, and Amiko doing it, even more often. Mom would sometimes go down to her lab and not emerge for days, completely forgetting that there was world besides the cellular and viral one. One those days, Amiko would fetch Laura from daycare, and later, school and make dinner. Laura soon learned not to bother Mom when she was neck-deep in work, and, eventually, the family fell into a strange rhythm. It was different, admittedly, but Laura had loved it and not a day went by that she didn't wish that things could be that way again, that she could see Mom one more time.

Laura was awakened by the pipe sliding out of its tubes. How could she have fallen asleep? She tried to think how long she'd been sleeping, but had no idea.

The door swung open and a man stepped inside, flanked by Stonerend.

The man was tall, pale, with thin features and light hair. He wore slacks and a blazer, and his hands were thrust casually into his pockets. His hooded eyes were slate grey and moved entirely too much, giving him all the trustworthiness of a snake.

"My dear Laura," he said with a slight English accent, his voice oozing charm. "My apologies for this unfortunate set-up. If you promise to be a good little girl, you can stay in a hotel room."

"What do you want with me?" she asked, the steadiness in her voice surprising even her.

"Ah, sorry about that. I've forgotten introductions. I'm Nathan Byron. Not my real name, of course, but close enough. You, of course, are Laura Kinney."

"Logan," Laura corrected.

"Debatable, but if you insist—"

"What do you mean, 'debatable'?" Laura asked.

Byron shrugged. "I'm assuming that's James's name you're using. Only, James has a long string of pseudonyms and aliases scattered over his very suspicious past—Emilio Garra, Peter Richards, 'Patch'—and I'm convinced that Logan is another, but feel free to delude yourself in any manner you wish. I don't care about you or your misbegotten father."

"Then why on earth am I here?" Laura exploded, her fear and apprehension overcome by anger and frustration.

Byron blinked, seeming genuinely surprised by the question. "You did have two parents, you know. Most people do. I was once a colleague of your mother and we even collaborated occasionally on her project. It was ultimately a failure, of course. She could never have succeeded-at least as she envisioned it-but she always failed to see the more. . .panoramic application. I want her research, it's that simple. Your 'sister' hands it over and she gets you back, safe, sound, and in one piece with all vital parts in working order."

"What was my mother working on that you're willing to risk a lifetime in jail to get your grimy mitts on it?"

Byron smiled thinly. It made him look like a crocodile about to devour a young goat. "What makes you think I'm risking anything?"

"Because I'll tell them all about you." Belatedly, Laura realized that that wasn't very smart, giving him incentive to kill her, but Byron didn't seem to notice. "Tell who? The police will never find me."

"I'll-I'll tell Lo—Dad. He'll find you."

Byron grinned cheerily. "With his precious X-Men? Be sure to say hello to Cyclops for me. You, my dear child, are so severely deluded I'm tempted to pay for psychiatric help for you."

Laura stared at the man, nonplused. She felt like she was talking to a brilliant lunatic.

"Don't worry, you needn't endure me much longer," Byron continued. "I've already notified your sister of my demands and I'm quite confident that she'll be more than willing to meet them for your safe return. Would you like a Coke?" He nodded at Stonerend. "Bring her upstairs. There's no need for this barbarity."

Stonerend untied Laura and pulled her to her feet.

Laura was silent as Stonerend and Byron led her back into the lounge. She didn't think she could overpower both of the men. She decided that her best bet would be to stay alive and with any luck Byron would honor his agreement and free her when Amiko gave him the research.

Another thought pierced her. Surely anything Byron wanted would be used for foul purposes. What was it he wanted with Mom's research? Was it something that would harm or even kill people? And if it was, would it be right for Laura to live at the cost of other innocent lives?

They reached the lounge and Byron gestured for Laura to sit down, as he did so himself. Stonerend remained standing, silent as before.

"I must admit that I lied earlier," Byron said, rising again and walking over to a vending machine. "I do, in fact, care about you. I can think of a great many possible uses for you. However, I, long ago, ignorantly promised Sarah Kinney that I wouldn't harm you, and I am a man of my word." He fixed Laura with a steely glare. "Unless pushed past my benevolent limits."

"Kidnaping me isn't harming me?" Laura asked.

Byron pushed some coins into the slot and punched a button. "My dear child, you do not want to know what I consider 'harming' someone." He took two Sprites out of the dispenser. "Want a pop?"

"No. Not from you."

"How about some chips or cookies or something? You must be hungry. Just because I've kidnaped you doesn't mean you have to starve."

Laura was hungry, but she would soon jump out of a flying plane without a parachute as take food from this monster. On second thought, though, if a chance for an escape did arise, she would best be prepared to take advantage of it if she had her strength up.

"Fine. I'll have a hero. With turkey."

"I'll arrange it. Stonerend, send someone to the corner deli and get one for Miss Logan." The name was clearly used sarcastically.

Stonerend rolled his eyes, obviously resenting being used as gofer, but he left the room.

"I've never liked mercenary types," Byron commented, looking after him.

Laura snorted. "And what are you?"

"I am a scientist, child. I reach for the stars, or cells technically, for the betterment of mankind, for a brighter future."

"So I'm, what, collateral damage?"

"In a broad sense, yes. After all , where would we be without Helmuth Vetter or Mendele?"

"Much better off."

"Maybe some people, but certainly not me," Byron retorted. "And individuals are insignificant in the grand scheme."

"You're truly disturbed."

Byron shrugged and opened the can of soda he was holding. "My great pleasure."

Laura thought back to earlier in the conversation, though the fact that she was even having a conversation with her kidnaper bothered her. "Why did you promise my mother you wouldn't hurt me?"

Byron took a sip of Sprite. "Your mother was aware of some of my more—ruthless personality traits. In exchange for me promising to not abduct, or in other ways harm, you or your dear James Logan, Sarah gave me some vitally needed research on cloning."

"You just abducted me," Laura pointed out.

"Ah yes, but the agreement was for medical purposes, and I promise I won't do so much as take a sample of your DNA." He paused, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Unless, of course, you happen to leave some behind after you leave. Then it's fair game."

"What would you want with my DNA?"

"Why, to study, of course! In lieu of your father's it would make quite a fascinating little examination. You wouldn't happen to be a mutant, would you?"

"No." Laura managed the lie without so much as her heart rate increasing.

Byron looked crestfallen. "Too bad. Oh well, there's hope yet. You're only fourteen or fifteen."

"If I ever sprout wings, you will be the first I'll tell," Laura said, glaring at him.

"Would you be such a dear?"

"No."

"I thought not."

A klaxon blared again, the same one that had sounded when Laura had escaped. She grimaced against the pain in her ears.

A man ran into the room, panting. "Intruders, Byron. I think they may be private agents or bounty hunters."

Byron looked annoyed. "Get rid of them, Ford."

Laura tried not to look too hopeful.

Ford nodded and ran back out, barking orders into his radio.

It was just Laura and Byron, and Laura decided to make a break for it. She jumped up from the couch and darted toward the door opposite the one Ford had used. Byron lunged after her and grabbed her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her, pressing her into him. Laura twisted her hand into his stomach and popped her claws. Byron let go of her abruptly and staggered back, holding his stomach. To Laura's surprise, a smile crept over his face. "You sly little liar. Just like dear old Dad, eh?"

Laura took off again. A bullet slammed into her right leg and she crumpled with a cry. Byron put his boot on her back. He seemed surprisingly spry for someone with an open wound in his belly. "Move and the next bullet goes through your thick skull."

Laura tensed, hoping Byron wouldn't feel it beneath his shoe. She shoved her claw into his calf and when his weight shifted she rolled out from under him, tears dripping down her cheeks from the pain in her leg. She turned and swung her injured leg up in a high kick aimed at his throat. An eight-inch claw grew from the top of her foot and pierced his throat. Byron's eyes widened in surprise. "Di'n't 'spect 'at," he gurgled, then dropped to the floor. Laura retracted her claws and raced down the hall as fast as she could, given the fact that she was limping badly. Did she just kill a man?

She came a place where the hall split into two directions. Which to take? She glanced wildly down both.

Suddenly she couldn't run anymore. Her injured leg seized up and she stumbled against the wall, gritting her teeth. There seemed to be buckets of blood leaking from the wound.

A squad of men led by Thompson ran around the corner, guns held at the ready.

"If she moves, shoot her," Thompson ordered. "Try to make it nonlethal but don't worry too much about it."

A red beam bounced off the wall from around the corner and knocked Thompson off his feet.

Logan ran into the middle of the men, claws extended and ready for blood. Four of the nine were down for the count before they'd even shifted focus to this new threat. Another was flung into the wall by Scott, who appeared around the corner, hard enough that the force of his impact dented the wall.

One of the remaining thugs shot twice at Logan before Logan sliced his gun in half, bringing his arm around to hack at another man in the same motion. Cyclops disarmed the last man, then looked at Laura. "Are you all right?"

Laura looked down at the bloodstain spreading across her jeans. "He shot me."

Scott nodded. "Wolverine, make sure we don't run into any surprises."

"There's a lot of men coming from over there," Logan said. "Get her to the jet and I'll keep them busy."

Scott picked Laura up, cradling her as if she were a baby, and hurried off, going down a staircase and weaving around several corners before Laura saw blessed daylight.

The surroundings seemed to be deserted and long ago abandoned, buildings left to collapse and trash left to rot where it lay. The X-Men's sleek jet was set down only yards from the building and the drawbridge was lowering.

Once inside the jet, Scott set Laura on one of the seats went up to the cockpit, as Jean, who had evidently been flying the thing, came back to the passenger seating. Her widened when she saw Laura and she hurried over to her. "What happened?"

Laura tried to answer, but found that her muscles were mutinying. Tears overflowed her eyes and she pulled herself into a tight ball.

Jean was already bandaging Laura's leg, saying something about blood loss and getting her to the medlab, but Laura wasn't paying attention.

Logan ran into the jet and Scott lifted the craft from the ground. Logan caught Laura's eye and held it for a long moment. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You okay, kid?"

Laura nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

Jean glanced back and forth between them, an eyebrow raised, but apparently deciding not to read their thoughts to answer her unspoken question.

As soon as the jet touched down at the school, Amiko was there, hugging and crying, and Laura clung her, wishing she never had to let go. Too soon, Jean whisked Laura off to the medlab, despite Laura insisting that medical care could wait a few minutes.

"Look," Laura said upon reaching it, "just bandage me up and I'll be fine."

Jean raised her eyebrow again. "Really." It wasn't a question. "Any other injuries?"

"No."

"Really. There's blood on your shirt."

"Oh yes, about that. I got shot there too, but it's fine now. I took the bullet out."

"So you got shot twice. And that's all?"

Laura sighed. "I jumped out of third-story window. I broke my legs and some ribs and probably some other stuff, but I'm fine."

"And you don't want me to look at those?"

"No. I heal very quickly." Laura sighed again. "You're a telepath so you probably know this already."

"I try not to read people's minds unless they give me permission."

"Yeah, well, I don't think we're very subtle. But I need to ask you something, if that's okay."

"Sure, go ahead."

Laura hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Logan's my dad."

Jean grinned. "So that's it, is it? I wondered what was going on with you too. I've been impressed with how hard you've each been pretending that the other was invisible."

Laura reddened. "You noticed that?"

Jean nodded.

"Well, what would you do if you suddenly had a new member of your family pop up?"

Jean looked pensive for a moment, then she sat next to Laura. "I'll tell you a little secret. We haven't told anyone yet, but soon I'll have a new member of my family 'pop up'."

Laura frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to have a baby."

Laura's eyes widened. "Really? When? A boy or a girl?"

Jean laughed. "Yes, really. About seven months and we don't know yet. Anyway, my point is that when he's born, Scott and I won't know him, we won't know what he likes. Sure, he'll be our baby, but we'll still have to get to know each other. Like you and your dad. Except you have an advantage: you're articulate. You can talk to Logan, and, believe it or not, he's almost articulate too. When he's in a good mood."

Laura laughed. "That's for sure." She became serious. "I think I see what you're saying."s

Jean hugged her. "I think you'll manage. And if you ever need help, or just want to talk, I want you know that I'll be there, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Summers."

Laura paused, then gathered her courage and knocked on the door. Her heart thumped a mile-a-minute as she waited for the reply. When it swung open, she took a deep breath and looked up. "I was wondering if we could talk, Dad."


End file.
